Last night I had a dream, I was standing on top of a Himalayan mountain, perched above the clouds, where the air is thin and you can see your breath. Somewhere where men have been before. Drunk from the pristine air, I stepped onto nothingness but standing on what felt like a pillow. Then I was walking on rainclouds. The wind moaned with the melody of church organs. The moisture hugs me like a lover at the end of a relation ship. Then I stop in between two mountains. Like life I wait, content yet confused, hopeful yet questioning.